


The Rage Clean

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Bucky is a little shit, F/M, Gen, rage cleaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 10:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: Who knew cleaning could be so dangerous?





	The Rage Clean

You were charging around the common room, cleaning anything and everything you touched, anger coursing through you, driving you to clean faster, vigorously. Everyone around you called it rage cleaning, poked fun at you, in the friendliest ways possible.

Tony would leave dirty dishes on the counter and then start arguing with you about the dumbest things. Five minutes later, you’d be storming into the kitchen, a scowl on your brow, gently slamming the dishes into the sink, mumbling under your breath.

Then there was Thor. He would put his hammer in the most inconvenient places at the most inconvenient times. The other day, he put it on your purse, the one you had just been about to grab on your way to the store. It hadn’t been an emergency or anything like that, you just needed tampons. Okay, so it was an emergency. Growling, you stared at the god and demanded that he move it. Only after throwing his head back in a hearty, bellowing laugh, did he move it. Two hours later, you were finally on your way to the store.

But no one got you going like Bucky, the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers’ best friend. He was like a child, never giving up, finding humor in the dumbest things possible; you hated it, and yet, you loved it. You loved his child-like innocence, how he found humor in the most mundane things, in the most inappropriate situations.

Like what happened twenty minutes ago.

“Are you  _serious_  right now?” you ground out between your teeth.

Bucky was laughing, and hard, his hand over his heart, head thrown back, his legs unfurling from underneath him. “Come on, doll,” he chortled. “It’s fucking funny.”

“It’s not,” you argued, doing your best to breathe, to not let your anger get the best of you.

It had been a particularly stressful week, and Bucky dousing you with water as a practical joke had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. You were shaking your head, your eyes rolling back. You’d had enough.

“I had a plan for this morning. I was going to make us a nice lunch, go out for a walk, maybe even to the beach,” you rasped. You were getting emotional and it wasn’t something you liked people to see.

“Awww, babe,” he crooned as he stood, his eyes still alight with humor. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Uh uh, don’t,” you warned, running a hand through your hair, wringing the water from it. “You want to act like a child, fine, have at it. Count me out.” Despite Bucky calling after you, you stormed out and headed right to the common room and got to work.

You were elbows deep in a sink full of soapy water and sharp utensils, your rage still boiling, muttering under your breath, stupid scenarios running through your mind. Your anxiety seemed to only fuel your anger. It was stupid, you felt stupid about it, letting an emotion get control of you so badly that it started to affect the relationships you were in; friends, lovers, family. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear someone coming up behind you until it was too late.

With a knife in your hand, you whirled around and plunged the blade deep into Bucky’s thigh. You acted on instinct and pulled the blade out quickly. Bucky’s eyes were wide and he stumbled back, blood dripping down his leg and pooling on the floor.

**“Your leg’s bleeding,”**  you murmured, a small smile tugging on your lips.

**“Oh really?”**  Bucky snapped, ripping a towel out of the drawer.  **“I hadn’t noticed that half of my goddamned blood was flowing out of my leg, but thanks for letting me know.”**

It shouldn’t be funny, it really shouldn’t be, but there was laughter bubbling in your throat and you couldn’t stop it from bursting out of you. “I uh, I’m sorry.” You were bent at the waist, laughing like a hyena, unable to catch your breath.

Bucky huffed in amusement before joining you in unbridled happiness. “I suppose this makes us even,” he hoped, dropping the towel into the sink of water, his wound already healing.

“Clean slate,” you agreed, hands resting on his hips, thumbs tucking into the belt loops of his jeans.

With a smirk, Bucky dipped down and caught your lips in a lingering kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. “Clean slate it is.” And with that, Bucky smeared his damp hand over your face, turning quickly to run away before you could process what had happened.

You stood there for a moment, sputtering at the water on your lips. “James Buchanan Barnes,” you screamed, tearing out of the room after your boyfriend. “I’m gonna get you for that!”


End file.
